The Last Dragon
by ZenDog16
Summary: Season 8 one shot. Jon and Daenerys have arrived at Winterfell and Sam is left with the task of telling Jon the truth about his parents. An interpretation of how the reveal of Jon's parents could occur and how Jon and Daenerys might react.
1. Chapter 1

_At Winterfell, Jon has introduced Daenerys to his family and the North as his Queen. It's clear to everyone who knows him well that Jon is in love with her. Sam is left with the task of telling him the truth about his parentage._

* * *

It was late in the evening before Jon and Daenerys had been finally left alone in the great hall of Winterfell. They had thought they might have a moment together before they had been interrupted yet again, this time by Sam. Jon had let him stammer on for a while about Oldtown and The Citadel, but it was getting late and there was nothing to be said that couldn't wait till morning.

"You can leave now Sam," Jon said kindly but pointedly, watching Sam as he hovered awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do with himself.

Daenerys sat by the hearth with Ghost sleeping at her feet. Jon caught the hint of a smile on her face as their eyes met briefly. It had been a long day and all he wanted was to fall into bed with this woman and forget their troubles for a while.

"Actually," Sam said, clearing his throat uncomfortably, "I need to speak with you Jon…"

"You've been speaking Sam," Jon muttered.

"... I need to speak with you alone," Sam said, before turning quickly to Daenerys and giving a small bow, "Begging your pardon, Your Grace."

Daenerys raised her eyebrows in surprise, it was a rare occasion that she was asked to leave.

Jon sighed. He had been arguing with his sisters and the Northern lords all day about his newfound allegiance to the Dragon Queen, he didn't need this from Sam too. "I have pledged myself and the North to Daenerys. She is our Queen now. Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of her."

"I understand that," Sam said, "But this is rather… personal."

"Is it Gilly?" Jon asked quickly, "Did something happen?"

"Not Gilly… No…" Sam stammered.

"Well spit it out then," Jon said, rubbing his eyes and looking exhausted.

Sam's eyes shifted from Jon to Daenerys and back again. Daenerys sat calmly next to the crackling fire, watching the scene play out.

"Its about…- Its about your mother," Sam stuttered.

"My mother?" Jon looked up with a start, surprise written across his face.

Sam nodded.

"Do you…- What about her?" Jon asked in confusion.

There was a long pause as Sam hesitated, seeming not quite sure how to get out the words now the time had come to tell them.

The silence was broken by Daenerys soft voice. "Perhaps I shall retire after all," she said standing to leave, sensing that despite Jon's assurances, this was a conversation best had in private.

"No, wait," Jon said, reaching for her as she moved to leave the fireside. He caught her by the arm and they met eyes, the familiar spark between them flared.

"Stay." Jon said quietly. Daenerys watched him for a moment longer then nodded and took her seat again.

Sam watched all of this uncomfortably from a few feet away and felt the beads of sweat start to form on his forehead. This was going to be more difficult than he anticipated. Perhaps he should have left this task with Bran after all, he thought to himself.

Jon turned back to Sam, his gaze as intense as ever. "You were saying…"

Sam cleared his throat. There was nothing for it; he would just have to tell them both.

"I believe… that is _we_ believe, Bran and I, that we know who your mother is… Was."

Jon sat back in his chair and frowned. "How?" He asked.

"Well, you know Bran can see things now… the three eyed raven, whatever that means." Sam said hesitatingly, thinking the words out, "And well, some of the things he's seen… they concern you. And I've been doing a bit of reading about our recent history and it all seems to… fit.

"What are you talking about Sam?" Jon said half-exasperated, half-amused.

"I mean…" Sam said, flustered, "Its not just about your mother, its your father too."

"My father?"

Sam nodded and held his hand up to stop Jon as he opened his mouth to speak again. Sam took a deep breath. "You are half Stark but not on your fathers side, it's on your mothers. Your mother was Lyanna Stark, Lord Eddard's sister," Sam said in one quick breath.

Jon watched Sam in confusion, his brow furrowed. His friend was mistaken.

"That impossible Sam," He said.

"I know it sounds a little mad, but just hear me out…-" Sam started but was cut off

"Lord St- _My father_ wouldn't lie about something like that," Jon said definitively, "You didn't know him, but he wouldn't."

"Not in normal circumstances, no," Sam said, slowly, "But if he didn't have any choice… If it was the only wa-

"You don't understand," Jon said, standing up in frustration, causing Ghost to raise his head and growl softly, "His own wife hated me Sam. She despised me for being her husband's bastard. If I were really his sister's child, why would he lie to her? _To me_?"

"Because it was the only way to protect you," Sam said, trying to explain.

"Protect me from what?" Jon asked, infuriated now.

"King Robert, The Usurper." Daenerys voice cut through their disagreement like ice. Jon had almost forgot that she was there. She sat quietly in her chair, her eyes on the flickering yellow of the flames. Her face was expressionless and she didn't look up.

Jon wasn't sure why, but he felt a sudden slow creep of dread up his spine. He had a terrible sense of foreboding that whatever else Sam had to tell him, he didn't want to hear it. And Daenerys knew it too. There was a long moment of silence as Jon tried to piece together the puzzle it seemed she had already solved.

"Do you remember the story of how Robert's rebellion started, Jon?" Sam prodded lightly, his voice soft.

"Of course I do. Robert turned on the Targaryens after his betrothed was taken by Prince Rhaegar…" Jon muttered staring into the fire, before looking up suddenly in astonishment. "Lyanna Stark was his betrothed and… Prince Rhaegar kidnapped her."

"My brother had a kind heart," Daenerys said softly, "He didn't kidnap anyone. He didn't _rape_ anyone."

Jon watched Daenerys uncertainly and then turned back to Sam who gave a small nod in agreement. They had loved each other.

"She was pregnant?" Jon asked. Sam nodded again.

Jon turned and walked a few step away from them and the circle of firelight. He ran a hand through his hair, his brow knotted. This was too much to process. Too many repercussions to untangle in a single sitting.

"So I'm not a Stark bastard," he muttered, "I'm a…"

"A Targaryen," Daenerys said, "Still a bastard, but a Targaryen one."

Jon swallowed and looked over to her. Her face was soft and sad. It was as if he could feel the chasm tearing the two of them apart, the revelations pushing her slowly away from him until he felt he was staring at her from across a great divide. _So many repercussions..._

"If King Robert had known you were alive, he would have never stopped hunting you," she said quietly, "Lord Eddard Stark lied to his King to protect you."

Jon looked away. He moved towards the window and leant against the cold stone of the windowsill, his eyes on the dark winter sky. Ghost got up from his place by the fire and padded over to Jon's side, allowing him to run his hand absentmindedly through the direwolves long white fur. All his years he had believed he was the son of the warden of the north and now he was not. Still a bastard, but now the son of a prince. Still half Stark, but not the half he had thought. This changed everything and nothing.

"There's something else," Sam said quietly.

Jon didn't reply. What else could there be?

"At the Citadel, I came across the record of a secret marriage," Sam said delicately. "Prior to the fall of the Targaryens, Prince Rhaegar had his marriage to Elia Martell annulled. He was remarried in a secret ceremony in Dorne to Lyanna Stark."

"They were married?" Daenerys asked sharply. Jon didn't need to turn around to know Sam nodded.

"So then… He's legitimate." Another nod.

Jon turned back to the room just in time to catch the fire in Daenerys eyes before it was quickly snuffed out. She stood up, her face like ice. They watched each other for a long moment across the room, Daenerys breathing deeply. Jon had no words but he could feel the hole in his chest rapidly expanding and a deep cold emptiness engulfing him.

Daenerys turned to go. She had a hand on the door before she paused and half turned back.

"What did my brother name him?"

Sam swallowed. "Aegon Targaryen, Your Grace."

Another pause and then she was gone. And with one conversation, Jon's world shattered.


	2. Chapter 2

_King. Warden. Bastard._

 _Stark. Targaryen. Snow._

The words echoed around Jon's mind as he paced the quiet halls of Winterfell. The sun had still not risen and the castle was quiet, save for the quiet murmurs and rustling of the night guard. They nodded as their Lord passed but he didn't see them. Jon hadn't slept at all, his mind to full to consider it.

Ned Stark had lied to him. His whole life Jon had been a thing to be laughed at and scorned; a bastard boy with no mother and no title. Bought up a Lord's son but with no place in his home. Hated by his wife. Looked down on by his children. Everything he had gained, he had fought for. But now it all seemed meaningless.

He thought of Daenery's cold eyes that evening, the shutters of her mind closing down tight as she realised the threat that stood before her. Everything she had ever wanted was in her grasp and he could take it away. Guilt and uncertainty simmered inside him at thought of her now knowing the truth about his parents, but the idea of loosing her made his chest constrict with fear. He knew what he should feel about their time together- shame, disgust even. But he couldn't bring himself to feel that way. It was no surprise to Jon when he found himself outside her chambers. He followed his feet all the way to her door, as he had done another night in a different world.

His knock was met with silence. It was only then that he realised there were no guards stationed outside. He pushed the door open and was met by a cold and empty room and an untouched bedspread. The feeling of dread that had boiled inside him all night flared again. She was gone.

Jon turned quickly and made for the tower that led out onto the rampart fortifying the castle. Ignoring the men that greeted him as he passed, he rushed quickly out into the frigid air. The cold winter dawn hit him with force. He ran to the outer wall and looked over, fearing the worse. But the Dothraki had not moved. Their camp sprawled out around Winterfell, fires dotted throughout the fields that were lit by the cool blue of dawn. The first of the suns rays crept over the horizon as a light snow fell. Jon felt the knot in his chest release just a little. She was still here.

 _Targaryen. Targaryen. Targaryen._

As if sensing his thoughts, a sudden thundering roar broke the heavy silence of dawn. Drogon plummeted from the clouds, shrieking as he went. His great wings bellowed up and down, making the trees two hundred feet below shudder. On his back sat a faint smudge of white that could only be Daenerys. They sailed across the fields, making for Winterfell and Jon. Drogon's cry grew louder as they approached sending the northern men rushing for the walls to catch a glimpse of the legend come to life.

Drogon flew in a great circle above Winterfell before he started his descent, the figure on his back becoming steadily clearer as he approached. Jon didn't take his gaze off Daenerys until she was close enough that he could see her watching him as well. As Drogon descended pass the walls they were level for a brief moment, her eyes meeting his squarely across the fifty feet of space between them, before Drogon dropped further. He landed heavily outside the castle gates, the ground shaking under his weight. Jon felt the walls tremble where he stood.

Jon watched as Daenerys dismounted, his heart beating heavily in his chest as it always did when she was close. The men around him murmured in awe as Drogon took to the sky once more, but Jon didn't take his eyes off Daenerys. She spoke briefly with the Dothraki guards that shadowed her whenever she was on the ground, at her command they didn't follow her when she turned and made for the gates of Winterfell. Jon saw her glance up to his spot on the walls once more before she disappeared from view.

It was a few minutes before she reappeared at the tower door, her expression cool and calm. The men's playful banter was silenced by her presence. "Return to your posts," Jon said to them. The soldiers dispersed quickly until Jon and Daenerys were alone. There was a long moment of silence before she spoke.

"You haven't slept," she said, observing his tired eyes and ruffled hair.

"You either," he remarked. She raised an eyebrow, a small gesture of agreement.

Daenerys moved towards the wall overlooking the crowded fields that surrounded Winterfell. She rested her gloved hands lightly on the snow capped battlement. "Flying helps me to clear my head," she said

Jon followed her to the wall but was careful to keep his distance. All their ease from a few days ago was gone, evaporated by the revelations of the previous evening. Jon watched her carefully, his uncertainty written into his furrowed brow. But Daenerys expression was controlled, she gave nothing away.

"Clear your head of what... Your Grace?" He asked, hastily adding the title and finding the formality odd on his tongue after their weeks of growing intimacy. If Daenerys noticed, she didn't react.

"You," she replied mildly. She gazed out over her army in the field below with complete authority, ever bit the queen she was proclaimed to be. She spoke slowly, the words mulled over and planned out during the sleepless hours of the previous night. "Since the day Viserys died I have believed it was my destiny to sit on The Iron Throne. Everything that has happened to me since then has only confirmed that. First I had three dragons, then an army of Unsullied joined me and then the Dothraki hoard. Even loosing my husband and unborn child was another step on my path to The Throne. My family may be dead, my house may be destroyed, but I am here and I was born to rule Westeros... _With fire and blood_." She turned towards him now, her bright blue eyes striking. "But it seems I was mistaken. The Throne was never meant for me."

Jon didn't need to know her well to read her now, her anger simmered just below the surface. She was as much made of fire as her dragons. "Daenerys," he said quietly, taking a step towards her, "I don't want it, you know I don't."

"It doesn't matter," she said, anger flaring, "You are Rhaegars son and Rhaegars heir. Once the world knows that, my claim will be baseless."

"I'll step aside."

"You cant," she replied bitterly.

"I can," he said determined. "When Aemon Targaryen was next in line, he passed the throne to his brother to remain with the Watch. Theon was the next in line for the Salt Throne but he stood aside for his sister." Jon wasn't sure why he was trying so hard to convince her, but he could feel her slipping away and he couldn't stop himself from trying to hold on.

"I'm not a King, Daenerys," he said, willing her to believe him, to remember that he had bent the knee and that he was a man of his word.

But she wouldn't hear it. Daenerys understood, perhaps better than Jon, what her brother had seen for his son. "Aegon Targaryen," she said, "That is what he named you. Aegon The Conqueror was the greatest king Westeros has ever known. Why do you think he gave you that name?"

It doesn't matter, thought Jon, realising what he had failed to grasp last night as he paced the halls; a long dead Targaryen Prince couldn't change who he was, even if he was his father. "I'm a Northerner," he said, "My place is here, not in Kings Landing."

She looked at him with a hint of sadness and frustration now. "You cant deny who you are Jon," she said simply.

"What would you have me do?" Jon asked, angry now, his voice rising. "Rally my army? March on Kings Landing? Perhaps you would like to lend me a dragon to ride as well."

Daenerys eyes flashed dangerously at his words and Jon turned in away in frustration. He took a few steps away to take a deep breath and regain his composure. Arguing with her would not achieve anything, he thought, they needed to work together.

"You and I both know that the true war is here," he said calmly. "The white walkers are coming. None of this matters if we can't defeat them." Daenarys looked like she had more to say but she resisted with a sigh.

There was a long moment of silence, both of them contemplating the mess they found themselves in. Far above them, Rhaegal and Drogon roared. Jon's face turned skyward, watching the dragons tumble through the sky, Drogon snapping at his brothers heels.

"And what of you and I?" Daenerys asked quietly, calling his attention back to her. Her face was cautious and uncertain in way that she almost never allowed herself to be. Jon met her gaze hesitantly through the gently falling snow, the turmoil that had consumed his last few hours bubbling to the surface once more. Of all the questions he had asked himself last night, that was one for which he had no answer.

"I don't know..." he said quietly. And after another long pause, "How can-… How can there be a 'you and I' anymore?" He asked, voicing the greatest fear that had consumed his sleepless night. He wished... hoped that she would prove him wrong.

But Daenerys didn't fight him, she simply nodded and looked away, avoiding his gaze. "Probably for the best," she said softly, her eyes sad and distant. "It was only going to be a distraction."

Jon clenched his jaw but he couldn't bring himself to nod; it was never just a distraction for him.

Daenerys shut her eyes and took a deep breath, steeling herself. When she opened her eyes and spoke again her voice was cool and calm once more, "You should call your bannermen. If the reports from The Wall are accurate, we don't have much time. We march north in three days."

"Daenerys..." Jon whispered, taking a step towards her. His eyes flickered down to her lips, wanting to throw all caution to the wind and just embrace her, but he didn't. She met his gaze for a moment longer giving him a chance to finish, but he couldn't find the words. Her gaze dropped away, full of regret, and she turned to go. She strode quickly for the tower door and down the winding stone staircase out of sight.

Jon stood where he was, resisting every urge in his body that clamoured for him to go after her. It wouldn't matter, he thought, it had always been an impossible dream.

Above him, Drogon roared once more.

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 _ **I wasn't planning on writing any more for this but your reviews were so lovely that I couldn't resist. Hope you enjoyed :)**_


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